What If?
by anjumstar
Summary: A series of 'What ifs' from Bare: A Pop Opera. Jason's death was the result of a lot of little events all adding up. If each of these events were altered would the ending be the same or not? Pop Opera canon.
1. I Will Try

_What If?_

 **Summary:** A series of 'What ifs' from _Bare: A Pop Opera_. Jason's death was the result of a lot of little events all adding up. If each of these events were altered would the ending be the same or not?

 **Setting:** Following Promise.

 **Rating:** T for language. Individual ratings and warnings will be in every chapter.

 **Chapter Title:** Spin on: "I tried," spoken by Peter in Promise.

 **What if:** What if Peter doesn't leave Jason after Promise and instead follows him?

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated in any way with the _Bare: A Pop Opera_ or _Bare the Musical_. This story is merely for entertainment.

* * *

 **I Will Try**

"You know what then, fuck you, Peter! Fuck you!"

The words stung. Peter winced but let them roll off him. He was just taking out his anger about the whole situation.

Still, he didn't have to be such a dick about it.

He had slept with Ivy. And he had lied to him about it. Peter fumed at the thought. Had they still been together when it happened? Peter shook his head. It didn't matter. It was done.

But as everyone flocked away from Jason, Peter couldn't help but let a little bit of guilt creep up with every passing step. Matt never would have blown everything open like that if he hadn't told him.

Was he sorry about that? No. He had meant it when he said it. But it didn't need to happen like this.

Peter could hear Nadia talking to Jason, just barely. He was about the step out. Leave. Not turn back. But at the last moment he turned on his heel and hid behind a pillar. The room made for a lot of echoes, which helped carry Nadia's voice to Peter's ears, but it also made it so he could only hear every other word or so.

"Yeah, thanks. I know…Could you leave me alone? I don't mean to be rude…It's just…"

That was unusual. Peter peeked out from behind his pillar to see Nadia leaving the room, wiping her eyes as Jason sat on the floor. Alone.

But Peter knew that Jason never liked to be alone when he was upset. When he was worried about a test or dealing with shit from his father or stressing about college apps, that was when he would go to Peter and kiss him and hold him. Just to let the world fade away, just for a moment.

That was why it was so heartbreaking to see him so utterly alone.

Little mutterings were carrying their way from Jason to Peter, but he couldn't make out a word of it. Jason always had had a habit of talking to himself out loud, be it when he was studying or trying to figure something out. He didn't ever know that he was doing it, but Peter would catch him and then they would laugh about how neurotic he sounded.

It wasn't so funny now.

Peter saw Jason push himself to his feet, it taking a lot more effort than it should have for someone of his strength. And he started walking towards…towards the chapel.

Without hesitation, Peter crept behind him, taking care to keep a good distance and dart behind things when he could. Not that it probably mattered—Jason seemed pretty out of it. Peter probably could have been wearing tap shoes and he wouldn't have noticed.

The confessional.

Peter's eyes widened as he darted behind a pew. But he wouldn't, would he? He had gotten so mad when Peter almost told the priest about them…That's when Jason had broken up with him.

After a few minutes Peter saw Jason and Father Flynn go in their respective doors. Peter wanted so much to get a glass and put his ear up to the wood but that kind of eavesdropping seemed to be crossing a line. More of a line than he was already crossing by essentially stalking Jason. The confessional was supposed to be a conversation with God—he couldn't intrude on that, even if it did have to do with him.

Luckily he didn't have to eavesdrop. By the end of the confession Peter could make out just about every word they were saying and he felt his heart drop with each one. He slumped against the back of a pew, closing his eyes as the painful words dug into him like a happy dagger.

Jason would never be okay with this. He would never be okay with…them.

A lone tear ran down Peter's cheek and he let it fall, staining the wood of the chapel if but for a moment. He heard the doors to the confessional open and close and the footsteps that followed. He waited a minute longer until he was sure that no one would catch him leaving and went to the dorms.

Not that he was sure how he could ever go to sleep after this.

A lot weighing on his mind, Peter walked slowly on autopilot to his room and opened the door.

"Peter?"

…His old room.

Peter came face to face with Jason, both of them looking a lot more drained than they had just a half hour ago. And they hadn't really looked good then.

"Sorry," Peter sputtered half-heartedly. "I wasn't thinking and I…" He trailed off when he saw Jason's empty expression.

"No, it's okay," Jason said. "I was actually just at your room and I noticed you weren't there, so this explains it."

"You were at my room?"

"Yeah, just talking to Lucas."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

He'd been there for Lucas, not for him. Not that it should matter. They weren't together and never would be again so why would he be looking for him? Why was Peter even still here?

"So, I should be going…" Peter started, but one last look into Jason's eyes made him stop. Guilt was coursing through him again, stronger than before, and before he knew it, he blurted, "I heard what you and Father were talking about."

That grabbed Jason's attention. "What?"

"I'm sorry, I was just following you to make sure you were okay," Peter explained. "I didn't mean to overhear anything but…I did."

"Oh. So you heard."

"Yeah."

They stood looking sadly at each other for a moment before Jason returned getting ready for bed. His movements were mechanical and his face was unaffected, unchanging.

"He's wrong, Jason." He didn't know what compelled him to say it. He knew it wouldn't change anything. This was what Peter had been telling him forever now but Jason never believed it from him. And he didn't believe it now, judging from how he didn't even twitch at Peter's words.

He had one last hope.

Peter walked over to Jason and put a hand on the hand that had been pulling back his sheets. That made Jason look at Peter; they were closer than they had been in months.

"Talk to Sister Chantelle. Tomorrow." It sounded like a suggestion but Peter was looking deep in Jason's eyes. He had to convince him to do it. It had changed everything for Peter, maybe it could re-instill even an ounce of hope into Jason's heartbreakingly empty eyes.

"Okay," Jason agreed, though it sounded like he was too exhausted to argue the point more than anything.

"Okay," Peter echoed. He pulled his hand away from Jason's with only a bit of reluctance and made to leave before Jason grabbed his arm.

"Stay." It was desperate; it was pleading.

How could he say no?

Wordlessly, Peter nodded, stripping off his vest and tie while slipping out of his shoes. Jason curled up into a tight ball, pushing himself close to the ball. Peter turned off the light and slipped in behind Jason, pulling his body close. When they used to do this, admittedly Jason was usually the big spoon but today it seemed Jason needed the comfort of being held a lot more than Peter did.

They were exes. Peter had been pulling away—devoting all of his energy to pulling away. He was mad at Jason and had been reminding himself that he had every right to be. So this was weird. Comforting, but weird. But he decided to settle for the comfort part and enjoyed the familiar warmth of Jason's body.

"I'm sorry I slept with Ivy." It was a whisper. Peter could barely hear it, but it was thick with emotion. It sounded almost innocent, like a child repenting his bad deeds.

"I know."

He didn't say I forgive you. He wasn't ready for that; he wasn't sure that he ever would be. But for now, having him in his arms was more than enough.

They would figure out the rest tomorrow.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is going to be a long AN and for that I apologize. So, as stated in the summary, this is going to be a series of different 'What if' moments from _Bare: A Pop Opera_ (not the musical) using both the 2004 Off-Broadway version and the 2007 album as mixed cannon. So if you have any questions about things that don't seem cannonical to you, feel free to ask and I'll tell you which it's from because, while very similar, they do have some differences. But anyway, I was just getting struck with ideas of little tweaks that could potentially save Jason's life or at least alter the trajection of the story and I wanted to play with them. Anything is fair game as long as the 'what if' isn't a OOC move. That's the one law. So suggestions are welcome! Also, every chapter title is going to be a spin off of a line or lyric in the show with just a word or two difference.

PS, and this is important, **some of these stories will end the same way as _bare_. ** Some will have an **unhappy ending** because fate is fate, and some I'll write part way and then they'll have a split where one fork leads to happy ending and the other leads to sad.

Anyway, with this chapter I wanted to play into some of the anger that Peter has with Jason in Act II. A lot of _bare_ stuff is so overly fluffy, but there is so much more emotion than that—and not all of it good. This one has kind of an ambiguous ending, but I categorized this one as happy. If this happened, I don't think Jason would die.

I actually have a lot more to say...like a lot. But this monologue is getting to be of Shakespearean proportions, so Imma cut it off here.


	2. Is It He, Lord, Is It He? Version I

_What If?_

 **WARNING:** Suicide themes.

 **Setting:** Derails at the funeral scene in Epiphany.

 **Rating:** Strong T for _bare_ 's adult themes.

 **Chapter Title:** Spin on: "Is it I, Lord, is it I?" sung by Peter from Epiphany.

 **What if?:** What if Peter realizes that it's Jason and not him in his dream?

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated in any way with the _Bare: A Pop Opera_ or _Bare the Musical_. This story is merely for entertainment. Nor do I own any of the lyrics or Shakespearean verse used in this story.

 **A/N: READ PLEASE**. Remember what I said about some of these remaining unhappy? Yeah, well, remember.

* * *

 **Is it he, Lord, is it he?**

This dream was getting stranger at every turn.

Was he waving a rainbow flag around; did he have a stamp spelling _faggot_ on his forehead? How did they all know and why were they all attacking him? All of his friends, his peers, his mother, Father.

"Father?"

"Not at a funeral, Peter."

A funeral? But everyone was here taking different stabs whenever he turned their way like this was _The Lottery_ and he had been the one chosen to be stoned by the townspeople. Hardly the landscape of a funeral. But as he looked around, the space gained a solemn air. Unmistakable.

So who was in that casket?

Taking a breath, Peter walked up to it, but he couldn't see into it. There were no pictures or pieces of memorabilia. It was though whoever lay in that casket had never been alive in the first place.

But wait. It wasn't just people from school. His mother was here with everyone else too.

So…was it him?

"Ivy?" No response. "Nadia?" Again. "Matt?" Again.

Peter chilled, suddenly finding it hard to breath. He was dead? Why? What happened to him? And why did no one seem to care?

A premonition. It was oh so familiar. A Shakespearean death premonition.

 _Oh god, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, as one dead in the bottom of a tomb…_

This wasn't ever how he had imagined it. Not a single person held a spark of emotion on their face. Sure, he wasn't the _most_ popular kid in school, that was…

Jason.

Suddenly Peter's eyes began darting all directions. Surely Jason would be at his funeral, wouldn't he? But he was nowhere. Nowhere that Peter could see, anyway.

Then his eyes lay on the casket.

 _I dreamt my lady came and found me dead…_

"Jason?"

Everyone's eyes turned to him, narrowed into glares as though the name shouldn't have escaped his lips.

"Hate the sinner, hate the sin! Created in his image. Abomination! Abomination! Abomination!"

But it wasn't his fault! Peter's heart began to speed up as everyone started moving toward him, unforgiving faces unyielding. He had no control. Try as he might, he couldn't shake their grips, couldn't change direction.

 _Please wake up, please wake up, please…_

* * *

Peter awoke with a gasp. Adrenaline coursing through his system, he frantically patted his legs, his arms, his face, making sure he was all there.

Oh thank god. It was just a dream.

 _Premonition…_

"Let us go forth in peace, to love, and serve the Lord."

"Thanks be to God."

Peter remembered the last words at the last second and then took a last calming breath. It was starting to feel hot. Hot as hell…holy water burns…He scrambled to rip his robe off, practically clawing it off his body. It was smothering him. He ran as he did so. It wasn't just the robe. It was the room. He needed out, he needed to rid his mind of that dream.

Every step of his descent down the spiral stairs from the chapel felt like a step toward salvation as the Hail Mary escaped his lips.

And then he was almost hit by a basketball.

Well…that wasn't normal.

Then he saw a smirking face from across the room. Oh. That made sense.

"Hey."

"Hey," Peter replied, tossing the ball out of his hands, surprised when it actually went in a straight trajectory into Jason's waiting arms.

"So were you conscious for the sermon?"

Peter swallowed, surprised when he felt a lump in his throat. Wow, this dream was really under his skin. "I was awake for the last sentence."

Jason laughed. "That's perfect timing. So how was your nap?"

The word _fine_ was reflexively on Peter's lips, but this was Jason. It was alright to tell Jason. "Not great, actually."

Jason frowned, obviously not expecting that response. "Really? What's up?"

"I dreamed that you were dead." The words felt bitter in his mouth. Jason tilted his head, confusion looking oddly cute on his face. But still Peter had to work to swallow the emotion threatening to come out.

"Aw, come on," Jason said, nudging Peter playfully, trying to wipe the sadness of his face. "It was just a dream. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, giving a weak smile.

"Okay," Jason reinforced. Then he smiled suggestively. "Now, let's get all that off your mind."

"Wait." As much as that idea appealed to Peter he had to do one last thing to settle his thoughts. "Just, promise me that you're not going to leave."

Jason sighed. "You know I can't promise that kind of thing, Peter. We can't control that."

"Promise me."

Peter saw a subtle shift in Jason's eyes. He took Peter's hand and looked into his eyes with unusual seriousness. "I promise."

Peter smiled, feeling pacified for the moment. "Okay. Now what was that idea you were suggesting?"

* * *

 _Promise._

 _Webster's defines promise as a declaration that something will or will not be done._

He'd promised.

But was he really leaving if Peter had left him first?

Jason fingered the vial in his hand. _I fear, too early: for my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars shall bitterly begin his fearful date/ With this night's revels and expire the term of a despised life closed in my breast. By some vile forfeit of untimely death…_

A rueful laugh almost escaped his lips, barely tickling his throat. Life mimicked art so beautifully.

Peter had left. That meant that his promise didn't matter. He had nothing to feel guilty over. Well, nothing about that.

Suddenly Jason's mind was swarming with thoughts of betrayal and Ivy and babies and Notre Dame and his parents and Peter and the words they'd just shared. He held his head and squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could. But the thoughts and the images weren't going away.

He needed to forget. This couldn't be the rest of his life.

Before he could think about it too much, he unscrewed the vial and drank it as quickly as he could. He focused on the unpalatable taste so that he could keep his mind as blank as possible while waiting for the effects to save him.

And there it was. Blissful haze.

 _Eyes, look your last._

 _Arms, take your last embrace. And, lips, O you_

 _The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss_

 _A dateless bargain to engrossing death._

* * *

 **A/N:** I saw this particular scenario going both ways, so I wrote it both ways. Here's the unhappy ending and next chapter will be the happy ending. Meaning the first part of the story will be the same, so obviously skip those parts if you don't want to reread them. Also I'm going to start something in the next chapter that I want to see if you like. Oh, and note that I took some lines from _Romeo an Juliet_ in this story. If you can't tell which they are then...well, I don't know how to help you.


	3. Is It He, Lord, Is It He? Version II

_What If?_

 **WARNING:** Suicide themes.

 **Setting:** Derails at the funeral scene in Epiphany.

 **Rating:** Strong T for _bare_ 's adult themes.

 **Chapter Title:** Spin on: "Is it I, Lord, is it I?" sung by Peter from Epiphany.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated in any way with the _Bare: A Pop Opera_ or _Bare the Musical_. This story is merely for entertainment. Nor do I own any of the lyrics or Shakespearean verse used in this story.

* * *

 **Is it he, Lord, is it he?**

This dream was getting stranger at every turn.

Was he waving a rainbow flag around; did he have a stamp spelling _faggot_ on his forehead? How did they all know and why were they all attacking him? All of his friends, his peers, his mother, Father.

"Father?"

"Not at a funeral, Peter."

A funeral? But everyone was here taking different stabs whenever he turned their way like this was _The Lottery_ and he had been the one chosen to be stoned by the townspeople. Hardly the landscape of a funeral. But as he looked around, the space gained a solemn air. Unmistakable.

So who was in that casket?

Taking a breath, Peter walked up to it, but he couldn't see into it. There were no pictures or pieces of memorabilia. It was though whoever lay in that casket had never been alive in the first place.

But wait. It wasn't just people from school. His mother was here with everyone else too.

So…was it him?

"Ivy?" No response. "Nadia?" Again. "Matt?" Again.

Peter chilled, suddenly finding it hard to breath. He was dead? Why? What happened to him? And why did no one seem to care?

A premonition. It was oh so familiar. A Shakespearean death premonition.

 _Oh god, I have an ill-divining soul! Methinks I see thee, now thou art so low, as one dead in the bottom of a tomb…_

This wasn't ever how he had imagined it. Not a single person held a spark of emotion on their face. Sure, he wasn't the _most_ popular kid in school, that was…

Jason.

Suddenly Peter's eyes began darting all directions. Surely Jason would be at his funeral, wouldn't he? But he was nowhere. Nowhere that Peter could see, anyway.

Then his eyes lay on the casket.

 _I dreamt my lady came and found me dead…_

"Jason?"

Everyone's eyes turned to him, narrowed into glares as though the name shouldn't have escaped his lips.

"Hate the sinner, hate the sin! Created in his image. Abomination! Abomination! Abomination!"

But it wasn't his fault! Peter's heart began to speed up as everyone started moving toward him, unforgiving faces unyielding. He had no control. Try as he might, he couldn't shake their grips, couldn't change direction.

 _Please wake up, please wake up, please…_

* * *

Peter awoke with a gasp. Adrenaline coursing through his system, he frantically patted his legs, his arms, his face, making sure he was all there.

Oh thank god. It was just a dream.

 _Premonition…_

"Let us go forth in peace, to love, and serve the Lord."

"Thanks be to God."

Peter remembered the last words at the last second and then took a last calming breath. It was starting to feel hot. Hot as hell…holy water burns…He scrambled to rip his robe off, practically clawing it off his body. It was smothering him. He ran as he did so. It wasn't just the robe. It was the room. He needed out, he needed to rid his mind of that dream.

Every step of his descent down the spiral stairs from the chapel felt like a step toward salvation as the Hail Mary escaped his lips.

And then he was almost hit by a basketball.

Well…that wasn't normal.

Then he saw a smirking face from across the room. Oh. That made sense.

"Hey."

"Hey," Peter replied, tossing the ball out of his hands, surprised when it actually went in a straight trajectory into Jason's waiting arms.

"So were you conscious for the sermon?"

Peter swallowed, surprised when he felt a lump in his throat. Wow, this dream was really under his skin. "I was awake for the last sentence."

Jason laughed. "That's perfect timing. So how was your nap?"

The word _fine_ was reflexively on Peter's lips, but this was Jason. It was alright to tell Jason. "Not great, actually."

Jason frowned, obviously not expecting that response. "Really? What's up?"

"I dreamed that you were dead." The words felt bitter in his mouth. Jason tilted his head, confusion looking oddly cute on his face. But still Peter had to work to swallow the emotion threatening to come out.

"Aw, come on," Jason said, nudging Peter playfully, trying to wipe the sadness of his face. "It was just a dream. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, giving a weak smile.

"Okay," Jason reinforced. Then he smiled suggestively. "Now, let's get all that off your mind."

"Wait." As much as that idea appealed to Peter he had to do one last thing to settle his thoughts. "Just, promise me that you're not going to leave."

Jason sighed. "You know I can't promise that kind of thing, Peter. We can't control that."

"Promise me."

Peter saw a subtle shift in Jason's eyes. He took Peter's hand and looked into his eyes with unusual seriousness. "I promise."

Peter smiled, feeling pacified for the moment. "Okay. Now what was that idea you were suggesting?"

* * *

 _Promise._

 _Webster's defines promise as a declaration that something will or will not be done._

He'd promised.

But was he really leaving if Peter had left him first?

Jason fingered the vial in his hand. _I fear, too early: for my mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars shall bitterly begin his fearful date. With this night's revels and expire the term of a despised life closed in my breast. By some vile forfeit of untimely death…_

A rueful laugh tried to escape his lips, but it barely tickled his throat. Life mimicked art so beautifully.

He thought back to how shaken Peter had looked that day. And that had only been because of a dream.

Or a premonition. If he actually did it.

But that had been back when Peter loved him. And he had just made himself very clear on that particular subject.

Pain hit Jason's chest and he bit his lip to keep him mind off his stinging eyes. He put a hand on the top of the vial. He should do it.

As his muscle flexed to undo the cap, his mind was riddled with images of how near to tears Peter had been. He took his hand off the cap. But there were so many reasons to go through with this. So many. And he kept grappling back and forth.

Before he knew it, someone dragged him onstage. He went through the motions, his mind blurring through the show on autopilot. He barely remembered to exit the stage after Queen Mab—he'd just been staring at Peter the whole time.

Such strange words to come from Peter's lips. He was the dreamer after all. But as Mercutio he was anything but. And Jason was Romeo. The dreamer. The lover. What a switch.

Everyone scattered backstage, going about their preparations for the masquerade, Peter included. Jason felt the vial heavy in his pocket. He could hear a light swish of the liquid as he walked.

No. One last ditch effort.

Jason began racing towards Peter, putting his hand on his shoulder when he reached him. Startled, Peter turned around. "Jason, what?"

"Do you remember the day that you met me?"

He loved him.

He still loved him.

For now that would have to be enough.

Peter left for the stage, sending Jason a small smile of reassurance over his shoulder as he did so.

Jason smiled for a second before pursing his lips into a frown, blinking his eyes as he tried to hold back a fresh batch of tears, heated by warm emotions. He felt for the lump in his pocket, fishing it out. He unscrewed the cap and raised it to his lips for just a brief moment.

Just a bit of liquid courage to get through the rest of this. He'd save the rest for later.

Peter hadn't left him for good—he wouldn't leave either.

He looked out onto the stage. Two deaths would be more than enough for today.

* * *

*Jason chooses life—the harder choice. He makes it through the play and makes it through graduation with Peter, as a friend, by his side. The pain is still there; oh god, the pain is still there. And at the times when it all becomes too much, he reaches for the remains of the vial and presses it to his lips for a tempting moment.

It remains hard to even look at Ivy. That was where most of the guilt, the ill feelings, come from now. He knows that he has to deal with it but can't yet. He just can't face her. Fortunately, she gives him his space, still in shock over Matt's startling revelation. A blessing and a curse, really. Then, after graduation the space isn't as much of a choice, but Jason is grateful for it all the same.

The night when it all comes crashing down is when Nadia confronts him once they're back home. He had promised to call her when they were back at school and she tried her best to be patient. She had been patient for years now, waiting for when Jason would feel ready to talk about it. Or at least when she could find a way to broach the topic herself. But his lips are zipped tight.

So one day she barges into his room and says that he had his chance to pick the time and now it is her turn. Jason tries to push her away, but Nadia is unyielding. Voices escalate and soon enough their parents come into the room.

Nadia would feel more guilty about it, save for the fact that the words that tipped them off had spilled from Jason's mouth, not her own. Still, the pain on Jason's face when her parents ask for the truth is enough to make her rush out of the room and call Peter for support. She holds the phone on speaker as she sits against the wall to Jason's room so the both of them can suffer through the conversation together.

It takes Jason months to forgive her, though.

Jason ends up telling his parents everything. His sexuality, Ivy, the baby, even Peter. Both Nadia and Peter are surprised when they hear that little detail because they could swear they heard the L word muffled through the door. That was a good sign.

The McConnells are just about as understanding as Jason had expected. As a hail Mary he pleads to his father to leave Notre Dame out of it—given that he had quite a bit of pull there. Jason could have easily gotten in on his own, but he wasn't naïve enough to assume that his father hadn't done what he could to help anyway. And he could just as easily take that away.

To his surprise, though, his father doesn't say a word on the subject. To Jason that's the best he could have hoped for. At least in a couple of months he'll be out of the house where it won't be as much of a problem. Because he still believes that it will always be a problem.

But lesser. Just a little bit less.

Of course, his parents also force the phone out of Nadia's hand and give it to Jason so he can call Ivy right away and make things right. It's the hardest phone call of his life, but later he's grateful for it. He knows that he would have put it off forever and he would have missed his child's life. No, he hadn't wanted a child at eighteen, but he would truly be damned if he wasn't in that child's life just because of hesitance and regret.

Months later Jason ends up in Indiana at Notre Dame and Peter is in California at Berkeley. They remain friends, working things out together from afar. Peter's growth happens pretty quickly as his mother comes to accept him. That was the final bridge to cross for him and he becomes more himself each and every time Jason talks to him.

Jason's growth, on the other hand, is slower. He continues to grapple with denial and the fact that a pregnant Ivy is constantly on his mind doesn't help matters.

Surprise comes months into college when the first person assumes that he's gay. Jason can't mask the shock on his face and the acquaintance quickly pulls the words back, thinking they had made a mistake. To Jason's surprise, he finds affirmation slipping out of his lips. Even more surprising is when no one—not a single person has a problem with it.

He's still not okay with it. He's unused to the struggle of even trying to be okay with it and turns to drugs and alcohol at parties to numb some of the confusion and especially the self-loathing he's built up over the years. He's well into his sophomore year when he realizes that he's created a problem for himself in this. He thinks of his baby daughter and tries his best to let go of the dependence he's built up.

One more struggle on a long list.

But he's surprised when he can handle it. It's as though his other struggles have lessened.

And that's where the clarity begins.

It's like an epiphany for Jason and before he knows it he's on a plane to California.

Over the past couple years Peter has dated in college as a part of the healing process. He had meant it when he told Jason that he was going to try his best to move on in high school. Back then the pain of Ivy had been so fresh and Jason was so not ready that Peter knew it was the only solution. And as much as he holds the dearness of his first love close to his heart, this dating and being himself in California sculpts who he is—a person okay with himself.

Continuing to be friends with Jason makes this moving on a lot harder, but there is too much history there to burn that bridge. And when Jason had confessed to him his thoughts of suicide back then, he knew that ending their friendship wasn't an option no matter the pain that it still caused sometimes.

All that is why he was so surprised to see Jason outside his apartment. Without any time to recover, Jason kisses him and Peter can't help but fall into it. When they break away Peter has a million questions on his tongue and hope in his eyes. Jason confesses that it's still hard and he may never be complete past it but he already feels better about it than he ever thought he would.

And he promises that he will try.

That's the hope that Peter didn't even know that he had been carrying in himself since high school. Peter is filled with the warmth of words that he thought he would never hear. But here they are and he knows that this was meant to be.

They don't get back together right away, despite the nature of this encounter. They still need time and their feet flat on the ground. But it happens eventually and after a couple more break-ups they get married many years down the line. In 2015 when gay marriage is finally legal in all fifty states.

It's not happily ever after. Jason still has bouts of doubt and occasionally falls back into bad habits with substances. The fact that his parents never come around doesn't help much, but Nadia is always there for that familial feeling. Peter continues to push and sometimes he pushes too far and they end up going back a few steps, but most of the time they're in a good place.

Ivy struggles with being okay with Peter and Jason when they're together and when they're not. She never would have imagined that the father of her first born would be gay—a thing that she had always been taught was wrong. It takes a couple years to come to terms with completely—and a surprisingly understanding boyfriend and eventual husband of her own.

They end up being quite the unusual family. Different but not broken. They all return to the Catholic church at times, but not as completely as in their youth.

High school feels like it was so long ago. But it led them to now, and now is pretty damn good.

* * *

 **A/N:** *I just read _Pygmalion_ and following the end of the play was a essay-like conclusion saying what happens in the characters' lives in the years following the end of the play. I think that that idea is perfect for this story in which I'm addressing dozens of different ways things may have ended up. So I'm going to do this with a number of the chapters-probably mostly happy endings, though I may follow Peter and Ivy in some of the unhappy ones. Of course, if I get comments saying to forget about this I will not publish them, but I like the idea, so until I get naysayers, I'm going to keep doing it.

That being said, do you like this? Do you want more of it? Bear in mind that some of these may turn some happy endings into eventual sad endings.

Also, I'm marking this story as complete, since each one-shot is technically complete. Doesn't mean that I'm done with this, though!


	4. Talk Today

_What If?_

 **Setting:** Somewhere before Birthday, Bitch.

 **Rating:** T for language, teen drinking/drug use/general partying.

 **Chapter title:** Spin on: "Always thought we'd talk someday," sung by Nadia during No Voice.

 **What if?:** What if Nadia and Jason had talked before he died?

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated in any way with the _Bare: A Pop Opera_ or _Bare the Musical_. This story is merely for entertainment.

* * *

 **Talk Today**

There it was again. Unmistakable.

The way Jason and Peter looked at each other. That wasn't the shared look of best friends. That was…something else.

So Jason was…something else.

She had to give him credit; he was good at hiding it. Anyone that wasn't his twin sister—or Peter, apparently—would have no clue. And, consequently, they didn't.

But she did. And she wanted to tell him so much. Maybe they didn't tell each other everything, but they were close, and Nadia relished that. But with one word she could ruin it all.

It would require tact. Simply saying, "Hey, Jason, I can tell that you like the D," probably wouldn't cut it.

Too bad that's the best she could think of.

They would talk about it later. When she came up with something better to open with. Besides, there was no rush, right? There was nothing pushing her to broach a topic that would clearly only make him feel uncomfortable. And her by default.

But then she got a reason.

"Hey, Tanya," Nadia heard Ivy bubble over the phone from across the room. "Yeah, tonight's gonna be the night—I'll make sure of it."

Ivy was holding up different little napkins up to her chest, making Nadia roll her eyes. The tiger out on the prowl again in her usual guise—a push up bra and a belly-button piercing.

"Which top do you think Ja—" Nadia felt the hairs on the back of her neck prick up. She glanced behind her to notice Ivy looking at her warily, "—he would like?"

Nadia turned back to her desk, clenching her jaw. No. Ivy was not going to get her brother.

Abruptly, Nadia pushed back from her desk and left the room without a word. It wasn't that she was worried—with Jason's preference being what it was, she had no reason to be. But still, the fact that Ivy and Jason were as close as they were already made her tick. There was no way she was going to let it go further than that.

Nadia stormed down the hallway, crossing to the boys' dormitories and made the familiar route to Jason's room. Instantly, she reached for the doorknob, prepared to storm in and make a dramatic entrance to accentuate her point.

The door was locked.

She wiggled the knob obnoxiously for a second and then began spamming the door with knocks. After a few moments the door flew open and Nadia was greeted by a somewhat flustered Jason.

"What the hell, Nadia?"

Nadia took in Jason's unkempt hair and looked further into the room. There was Peter sitting at his desk, looking hard at work, though his lips a little pinker than usual. And Peter's bed was all mussed whereas Jason's was perfectly made, as Nadia was sure it had been since he had woken up that morning.

It was practically nothing—it could be nothing—but still…it was interesting.

Nadia stood for a second longer with Jason looking at her expectantly, if a little annoyed. Okay, in her haste she had lost that bit of tactfulness that she had wanted to bear in mind with this conversation. So how could she open it to recover that?

"Tell, Ivy you're gay," Nadia blurted.

Oops.

She instantly pursed her lips together as if to zip the words back into her mouth. Peter had instantly turned to look at her with wide eyes, and Jason looked as though he was going to piss his pants right there in the doorway.

Immediately, Nadia stepped into the room, not because she felt particularly welcome but because she suddenly remembered that the door she was standing in front of was very open.

"W-Why would I tell her that?" Jason asked, doing his best to gather his wits.

Realizing that it was too late to shut the barn door with the cows still inside, Nadia barreled onwards. "Because she wants to fuck you," Nadia spared a glance at Peter to gauge his reaction. He looked like he had swallowed a fly. "And she's going to fuck with you to do so and I think that may legitimately make me steal the keys to the church's van off of Matt and drive off a cliff."

"Nadia, I'm a big boy. I can handle Ivy," Jason said. "I don't need to lie to her to do that."

"Jason." Nadia looked him square in the eyes. He never had been able to lie to that face. So, in turn he said nothing. Sighing, Nadia turned to Peter, who had gone back to pretending to look studious. "Peter?"

Slowly, Peter rose up from his papers and looking at Nadia apprehensively. "What?" His voice sounded pressed and his eyes were longing.

Nadia looked between the two of them. Jason was avoiding her eyes and Peter had shifted his gaze to Jason as well, looking unsure. She waited for one of them to crack but neither did. Finally she sighed. "Fine." She forced herself into Jason's line of vision. "Jason, you're a nice guy, so I know you'll try to appease her or some shit but don't let her have this. Even a little bit. For me? Please?"

No response again.

Nadia left, not knowing what more to do.

Then she realized something. If this little conversation was going to push Jason away from her she would blame Ivy.

Forever.

* * *

Nadia was bored out of her gourd.

She had promised Matt that she if she couldn't say anything nice to or about Ivy today she wouldn't say anything at all. So, here she was…not saying anything at all. She was sipping some beer, trying to get a good buzz going but the taste was so bad that she couldn't help but take it slow. It was either that or plug her nose while drinking it, but she had learned from experience that that wasn't exactly a cute look.

It wasn't that she was being a wallflower. Really more of a wall-hippo if anything. Sure, people definitely noticed her—it was her room after all. But it was Ivy's birthday, so no one really gave a shit that she was making more conversation with the booze than anyone else.

She really did need the booze up, though. Jason had said very little to her ever since she had blurted to him about Ivy…and that other thing. That also meant that Peter hadn't said much to her either. That left Nadia very close to alone and she didn't like it one bit. And, as promised, she fully blamed Ivy for the outcome.

As the partygoers passed her by she just watched the action unfold in front of her. Jason. Peter. Ivy. Matt, the poor schmuck. Man, this party would have been a lot more fun if he'd just let her plan the whole thing. This 'be classy' shit just wasn't her style. And she knew it wasn't Ivy's.

And apparently it wasn't anyone else's' either. Peter was sloppy already and Ivy, of course, was barely able to stand up. Probably the one bad quality of being such a twig—she couldn't handle her liquor at all.

Then again, Nadia was even jealous of that. Being blackout would allow her to forget all this mess. But no, she was barely tipsy.

The high and drunk twins were both zeroing in on Jason, making their desperate moves. Nadia prayed that Jason would make the right choice. She'd told him what the right choice was—it should have been easy! But not long later she saw Jason push Peter away and the consequent heartbreak on his face.

Damn it, Jason.

Nadia wanted to watch and make sure that Jason truly had heard what she had said to him about Ivy. He was just too nice to everyone, giving everyone what they wanted. And he was the only person that she knew that actually truly liked everyone. But as she saw Peter storm out, she knew what she had to do.

Reluctantly, Nadia followed Peter out, grateful for the fresh, un-Ivy-worshipping air if nothing else.

"Peter, stop."

He turned around and looked at her, his eyes pink and a little vacant from all the weed. Clearly Jason had harshed his high a little. "What?"

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Then something sparked in his eyes. "Yes," he said, his voice surprisingly desperate.

"Okay." Nadia nodded uncertainly, caught off-guard by Peter's sudden change in demeanor, so different from what she had just been observing in her room.

Or, let's face it. Ivy's room.

Nadia allowed herself to be led to Peter and Jason's room and couldn't help but let a happy feeling surprise her. Talking to Peter was the way to get to know this part of her brother. And clearly Peter needed to get it out. This would be cathartic for both of them.

And they talked. They talked for a long time. They talked to the point that they were just trying to forget how long they had been there, and consequently how long Jason remained at the party.

Eventually Peter was all talked out and was coming down so much from the weed that he fell asleep. Nadia was glad because there for a while it seemed as though he was thinking too much about Jason to be able to get any rest.

It was then that Nadia heard a soft knock on the door. Sparing the now drooling Peter a glance, she went to the door and opened it to find Jason. "Why would you knock on your own door?" she asked, but before she could even finish the sentence, he pulled her out of the room.

Nadia took in Jason's face—he looked near to tears. "I tried to, but I couldn't," Jason managed, his voice wobbly and uneven.

"Tried to what?"

"Tried to be with Ivy," he clarified. "I know that I should want to and I'm supposed to and I've been trying ever since you said…but I can't."

At this point a few tears were trailing down his face and Nadia felt her heart breaking for him. "Jason, you're not supposed to be anything. This is who you are and that's okay. You're okay."

"But I don't want this," he croaked. "It's not okay."

"Yes it is," Nadia insisted. "You trying to be with Ivy is what's not okay." Nadia cracked a smile. "And I don't just say that because of any personal grudges I may have towards her."

Nadia wasn't sure if he was hearing her words or not, despite the occasional nods he offered her, so she decided to try another angle.

"Look at it this way: you have Peter. That makes you lucky. Would you rather have no one like me?" A sardonic smile played on her face, mirroring if but for a second on Jason's as well.

Ah, the self-debilitating humor hadn't let her down once yet.

Just one last thing.

"So, did you sleep with Ivy?"

Jason gave a little shake of his head.

Nadia smiled. "Good. Now go in there and be with Peter. Because that's what you're supposed to be doing. He'll probably still be high by the time he wakes up tomorrow, though, so don't let him get too handsy with you, ya hear?"

Jason cracked a sad smile walked into his room, leaving Nadia in the hallway.

Well, mission accomplished. For now. She knew it was still a long way to go. But at least the words were out there.

And…now she would have to deal with a rejected Ivy. Nadia smiled.

She couldn't wait.

* * *

 **A/N:** Cards on the table, I wrote this all way back when I first published this story 4 months ago. But I wasn't sure that I liked this chapter, so I had to put it away until I forgot about it and could read it with a clear mind. And I actually liked it! So here you go! And here's a reminder that requests for ideas are welcome. :)


	5. I Think We Should See Each Other

_What If?_

 **Setting:** Derails at One.

 **Rating:** Strong T, leaning M for sexual situations, masturbation, allusions to self-harm, and some explicit language.

 **Chapter Title:** Spin on: "I don't think we should see each other," said by Jason at the end of Touch My Soul.

 **What if?:** Jason doesn't sleep with Ivy

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated in any way with the _Bare: A Pop Opera_ or _Bare the Musical_. This story is merely for entertainment.

 **WARNING:** Please look at the rating of this chapter. There are trigger warnings amongst other things.

* * *

 _I Think We Should See Each Other_

The knock on the door was the first surprise. Peter had only just left—without saying goodbye, Jason was loath to add—and Nadia tended to barge right in without knocking. So Jason slowly made for the door, partly out of confusion, but mostly because he was pretty exhausted. Not because of his lack of sleep—Jason had gotten used to no sleep back in middle school—but because life had gotten exhausting.

He opened the door to surprise number two. Ivy. That was…awkward. And surprisingly, by the look on her face, she seemed to agree. She hardly even met his eyes, seeming to find the floor much more appealing.

"Hey…Leaving soon?"

"Tonight," he said curtly.

"Me too." She finally looked up from the floor, meeting his eyes. "Are you okay?"

Wow. It was _that_ obvious. "Hanging in there."

"Good." It honestly didn't look like she cared, though. Not to him. He was about to tell her to go so that he could finish packing, but suddenly her brows furrowed and her eyes were alive again. "Listen," she blurted, "I…I just didn't want to take off without apologizing for the way I acted at my party. I was wasted, I didn't mean to, you know, throw myself at you like that."

Oh, that's what she was here for. That's why she had been nervous. It was understandable. After all, she had been quite…erm…something at the party. But she'd been drunk. It wasn't like he could blame her. "It's okay. It was cute," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

A spark immediately lit in Ivy's eye, something akin to the drunken glimmer she'd had at the party. "Yeah?" she said coyly, tilting her head down so that she was looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Sure," Jason said, taking a hesitant step away. He was just trying to comfort her. Make her feel less awkward. None of these glimmer shenanigans were needed.

But as he stepped back, Ivy took a step forward, placing a hand on his side. "Because I did mean what I said."

In that moment he didn't remember what she had said. Hell, he wasn't hearing what she was saying now. All he could do was feel her hand on him, the other slowly coming to wrap around his other side as she pressed her body against his. It was a hug, sure, but more sensual. It was always more sensual with Ivy.

"H-Hey," he stuttered, swallowing the lump of some unnamed emotion in his throat as he pulled away, putting her hands back at her sides. "Why don't we…not?"

It fell flat. It sounded unnatural and tactless and the hurt confusion on her face reflected that. "But why?"

Because it felt wrong? Because this was his and Peter's room? Because he wasn't in love with her and she probably wasn't in love with him. "Because…" So many answers, but he fell at a loss for words. Then a solution popped into his head. A beautiful solution that completed the picture he had always had in his mind. "Because I want to take it slow with you."

Third surprise.

Again Ivy's eyes lit up, but not in a sly way, or a sexually-charged way. No, this was genuine happiness, and his heart warmed to see it on her face. This was the right step.

"Do you mean that?" she whispered as though she were afraid her words could break the idea.

"Sure," Jason said, slinging an arm around her shoulder, but keeping their bodies oddly disjunct.

In pure giddiness, Ivy reached up and pecked Jason on the lips—fourth surprise—before he could blink and darted to the door, leaning her head out long enough only to say, "Call me!" before rushing out.

Jason couldn't help but laugh. Ivy was always so together and sultry; it truly was cute to see her filled with child-like glee. And he had done that. He smiled to himself, happy with his decision. Fifth surprise.

Yeah, this would fix everything.

* * *

Graduation. It really wasn't anything like the movies.

Except that he was the one giving the speech. That was pretty cool. That could be in a movie.

Nothing else, though. It wasn't about spending their last moments with their class, reveling in overcoming high school, or being excited about college. No, the whole day was about lining up in the right order, shaking hands, and making sure to take two solid pauses for photo ops.

At least their class was small. Tiny compared to all those huge public school graduations from the movies. So at least it was quick.

People seemed to like his speech. Nadia and Ivy seemed to have a little contest over who could cheer louder for him, and that was kind of fun to witness.

He had really hoped that the two of them would get along better after he and Ivy started going steady, but that had been a pipe dream. If anything, that had made their relationship worse. And no one had thought that was possible.

That was another thing that Jason had come to expect from the movies. Wasn't everyone supposed to push their issues aside at graduation? Wasn't this ending supposed to be where everyone hugged and made up to make a clean slate for a new beginning?

Well, that was a lie. The movies were full of lies today.

Because as Jason had stepped up on the podium to the cheers of an audience and screams of his family and Ivy, his eyes had gone to the outlier. Jason knew that people's eyes always went to the outlier. And today—as usual—Peter was the outlier.

He had been silent. Not so much as a clap. And that had cut like a knife.

And that's how Jason knew he was going to get his clean slate for his fresh start with Ivy at college. He would never hear another word from Peter. Giving him a movie-worth clean break.

Cut with a knife.

…And he would be lying if he hadn't thought about doing just that.

* * *

Notre Dame was beautiful in the fall.

Jason had toured the spring of his junior year, so he had never seen it like this. His favorite part of the day was walking across the campus, golden with leaves ready to fall from the tree tops. It was like something from some college brochure.

Hell, his whole life was like a college brochure right now. Full credit load that he was mostly managing—he'd finally decided on majoring in engineering over the summer. That seemed like the smart choice for his future. He was invited to a party every weekend, usually one of his basketball buddies involved in a frat party. Jason had showed some prowess in beer pong his first week, so he was welcome at just about any party on campus except for maybe the theater parties…but he was okay with that.

As Jason lived in a rare moment of peace, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Ivy.

"Hey, babe."

"Hey! You're coming to my exhibit this weekend, right? I just wanted to double check."

Triple check, but that was fine. Ivy was studying studio art at Holy Cross College, which was conveniently only a spitting distance away. Jason loved seeing Ivy gain some footing in the world and find a place where she fit in for her talent. She was thriving at college as much as he was, and he was happy for her.

"Of course, babe. Wouldn't miss it."

"Great! I'm so excited for you to come here. It feels like I'm always going over there."

Eh, that was mostly true. But that's because they usually went to parties over here and she always came to see his games, and he kept his room a lot neater than she kept hers, so it only made sense.

Ivy continued to tell Jason about her day and he listened as best he could, still enjoying the brisk breeze chilling his face. He did a bit of people watching, seeing the people trod through the crunchy leaves and power walk their way to a class that they were evidently late for or take a leisurely stroll to the mess hall, chatting with friends all the while.

Then he caught sight of a boy walking by himself, earbuds in, humming the song in an easy tenor without a care for who might have been listening. Or maybe he thought nobody could hear. Or maybe he didn't even realize he was doing it.

"Jason?"

"Uh, give me a second."

The words came out without thought as Jason stared at the boy, watching as he looked up at every tree as Jason had been doing not five minutes before. And before Jason knew it, he had decided in his head that this boy was perfect.

And that was when he knew that he had to look away.

"Sorry, Ivy," Jason apologized as he shook his sinful thoughts out of himself.

"What was that?"

"Oh, just some people being loud. Couldn't hear you," Jason said, ashamed of how easy lying to Ivy came to him.

"Funny, I didn't hear anything."

Jason shrugged, focusing his gaze to his sneakers as he kicked up the brown leaves. "Guess it didn't come through the line. I just didn't want to miss anything you were saying. I like talking to you on the phone."

That was tellingly true.

It was easiest to talk with some distance.

* * *

So this was married life.

Graduation was a couple of months away. Wedding was a couple weeks ago. "Hey, Jason! What'd you do over spring break?" "Oh, just got married. Had our honeymoon. Nothing big. We all knew it was gonna happen."

Despite the rhythm and routine of it all, it really had been all exciting. The ceremony and reception had been everything Ivy had dreamed and been stressing about for the past month and Jason was sure that he would look back on his wedding as one of the best days of his life. His life itself was becoming something. It was progressing naturally. He had proposed to his high school sweetheart nearly a year ago and now they were married and he was about to leave college and he was going to get a good job and then they'd have 2.5 kids and…

Well, life was progressing.

"Hey, man!" As he was headed to class, Jason's old roommate from freshman year, Colin, came and gave him a high five. "What's up? Oh, boy, the ring. Man, that thing weighing you down yet?"

Jason laughed. He'd always liked Colin. He wasn't as intelligent as most of Notre Dame's students, but they had gotten on well enough. He hadn't been the most perfect roommate that Jason could have imagined…especially at the time, but they were still friends; he'd been one of Jason's groomsmen at the wedding. "Been with her four years, man. Things aren't that different."

"Yeah, but now you've got a girl roommate. Sounds like it could be a dream or a nightmare."

Well, Ivy was definitely a preferable roommate to Colin, but she still wasn't perfect.

No, Jason had a pretty good idea of what the perfect roommate would be…

"It's definitely a dream, man," Jason answered instead. "Couldn't ask for anything more."

* * *

Jason rolled off of Ivy, pulling off the condom with a wet _schlick_. He tied it off with practiced ease and tossed it into the nearby trashcan, happy that at least the smallest bit of his basketball days was still in him.

"Jason, can't you ever get up and place it in the trashcan? It would be so disgusting if you missed," Ivy chided good-naturedly, the words coming out mumbled into the pillow and softened by sleep.

In Jason's head, the used condom wasn't any worse than what they had just done. What made the fact that the fluids were a couple seconds older so taboo? Or they could just start using the pill, as he had suggested in the past, and nix the condom altogether, but Ivy insisted that she didn't believe in it. Instead of arguing, he rolled his eyes in the dark and said. "Goodnight, babe."

"Goodnight, Jase."

Sex with Ivy wasn't bad. They were practiced at it. And there was something comforting about the routine of it all. Of course, _comfort_ wasn't always what Jason was looking for with sex, but that didn't seem to matter. Not that Ivy wasn't a generous lover—she did everything she could for him and he did the same for her. And they did mix it up sometimes, usually just for special occasions.

He supposed he had nothing to complain about. According to his buddies, he was lucky to be getting laid regularly at all, much less with his _wife_ , they always added with a laugh.

Yeah, he was pretty lucky.

But it didn't feel that way a few hours later when he was still face up in bed, listening to Ivy's familiar soft snore and completely unable to go to sleep. His brain was still somewhere lower than his head.

He'd come that night. Twice, actually, but that wasn't enough for his mind not to have a firm yet tender grip on his penis as he gripped his comforter, willing himself to stay in bed.

Another half-hour passed by. Jason stole a passing glance at Ivy, noticing that her eyelids were fluttering slightly as if dreaming. He was safe.

Usually shame followed after one masturbated, but for Jason it was present the whole time. But sometimes he needed it so badly, needed this one thing that was truly his, that was truly in his world that he couldn't help but do it anyway, letting the shame wash all over him until it identified him as its own.

Jason padded into the adjoining bathroom, avoiding the one floorboard that he knew squeaked and thanked God that Ivy was a heavy sleeper. And then he took it back, because he didn't really want God looking into him at the moment. He closed the door, didn't turn on the light, and sat on the toilet seat. He never turned on the light, partially for fear of Ivy noticing but mostly because the less he could see himself in this moment, the better.

He reached into his pajama pants—old sweats from college that said basketball down the side—and grabbed his dick, already semi-erect. It felt so familiar in his hand and he hated that. He hated the familiarity, hated the pleasure, hated the images that began flying so freely in his mind as he began to message the tip, feeling himself grow as he did so.

Ivy. He always started with images of Ivy. She truly was one of the most beautiful women that he had ever seen. He never had to convince himself of that fact. And every time he complimented her when she was down or dressed up or just 'cause, he really meant it. But eventually in these stolen moments, she turned to something else in Jason's mind. Her shoulders broadened, her limbs thickened, her hair shortened, and her breasts flattened. As Jason's mind began to wander for a fleeting moment, she became Peter.

But that was not okay.

So immediately, as Jason's hand began to speed up over his member, he forced his thoughts to turn to someone else, anyone else. Today they turned to this guy he had seen on the street. He had been about the same age as Jason. Laidback dress, stubble as though he had missed shaving the past couple days. Not particularly fit, but average size. Nothing too special, but Jason had needed to force his eyes the other way when they crossed paths.

It was still a man, but it wasn't Peter. Still a sin, but not quite as bad. That was how he rationalized it enough to manage to bring himself to finish all over his hand with a quiet grunt.

The shame hit heavy, adding on to what he always felt and he tried to wipe it away as much as he could as he used a tissue to wipe it off his hand. As always, he washed his hands vigorously, rubbing the jasmine scented soap as deep into his hands as he could so that he smelled like Ivy instead of like his come. He then dried the water off with another tissue instead of a towel and placed it on top of the trashcan to hide his evidence.

He finished his ritual and headed back to bed. He was disgusted with himself, but at least he could sleep.

* * *

Today's sermon was unbearable. He was just grateful that it was only him and Ivy in the pew together and that the kids were in Sunday school and nursery care. Because if he had had to sit through the Reverend's talk of sin today with Jason Jr., Eden, and Henry the shame would have squashed him until he was a thin layer petrified wood on the pew.

Most of the time Jason had figured out ways to enjoy church. Going to church was a good thing to have on his conscious, which cancelled out some of the bad. And typically the sermons made him think about something interesting and they encouraged him to do good things in the world. All of this made him feel a little bit better about himself.

But today all of the talk of homosexuality in the news had inspired the Reverend to touch on it in the sermon.

Jason wasn't homosexual, though. He was married to a woman and had three children with her. That was very, very heterosexual if you asked him. So there was very little to feel bad about.

But that very little was hitting him hard today.

Now Jason was dreading the usually enjoyable chat that he and Ivy would have after the service. Hopefully Jason Jr. would have plenty to talk about from Sunday school and the sermon could just be glossed over. Then he could just go to his office and bury himself in some work until dinner. Maybe he'd take little Henry off Ivy's hands at some point in the evening.

This was what normal families did on a Sunday.

…Right?

* * *

Working at the company ten years and finally he had the job that he had been aiming for at twenty-five. The promotion had come a couple days back and it was the biggest thing to have happened for Jason in…Oh, God, years.

Well, that was a deafening thought, but it wasn't enough to ruin his high spirits. This job paid way more than his old one and he was already doing really well at it. Learning curve his ass.

Jason was heading from the break room with a fresh coffee in hand to his new office when he was stopped by an unfamiliar face.

"Hey, I don't think that we've met before. You're McConnell, right?"

Jason had to keep the surprise off his face as he shifted his coffee to his other hand in order to shake hands with this man. This man who spoke…a little freer than most men. A little higher in pitch, a little more emphatic with inflection.

"Yes, I am. And you are?"

His hair was perfectly coiffed, his suit perfectly pressed. Relatively common around the office, but still, there was something that told him that…maybe…this man was…

"Mitch Jordan. Pleased to meet you and welcome you to the sixth floor."

But maybe he was being presumptuous. In fact, he was flat out stereotyping and he should feel guilty about that. This man was just confident to be himself and that was something that Jason could aspire to.

"Pleased to meet you too."

…Or maybe just think about doing but not actually do completely.

"Okay, pleasantries out of the way. It's Friday, so you got any plans for tonight?"

Well, dinner with Ivy and the kids, but he had a feeling that that wouldn't take place at the same time as actual 'Friday night plans.'

Jason shook his head "no."

"You should come out to drinks with me and my husband," Mitch stated.

Jason took a sip of his coffee just so he could focus on the burn in his throat and hide any involuntary reactions in the lip of his cup.

"Um, sure," Jason said, afraid of being rude and saying the wrong thing more than anything. "Where?"

"Cobalt."

This time Jason almost spit the coffee out.

"Isn't that a, um, gay bar?"

"Yeah! Oh, um, don't worry, though, I've brought straight guys there before and they have a good time too. Sometimes a _really_ good time, if you know what I mean," Mitch trailed off with a somewhat awkward laugh that Jason hesitantly joined in with.

"I'll think about it," Jason said noncommittally, knowing that he would try to do anything _but_ think about it as he headed back to his desk.

Mitch had covered it well, but something about the way he had said that gave Jason the nagging feeling that Mitch had thought…that Mitch had assumed…about him…

And that had been a surprise. The biggest and worst surprise of his life.

And suddenly he was questioning everything that he had come to know in his whole life.

He made it through work. He had no choice but to make it through work and think only about work. Every non-work related thought that popped into his head were followed by thoughts that he hadn't thought since high school. Thoughts of knives and what they must feel like. On your skin. On your wrist. Plunged into your chest and twisted around until the pain equaled the emotions tearing your apart there.

After work he walked. He kicked up the golden-brown leaves littering the ground with the tip of his shoe, focusing on the tender crunches they gave under his touch. With that as the percussion he hummed a little tune, trying to drown out his thoughts with that and all the possible sounds of the city he could take in.

He walked a long time, right past his usual train station and on past the next one after that, which happened to be a couple of miles away. Then he realized that he'd have to get on the line somewhere or he'd never make it home. As it was, Ivy would probably have his hide.

He had to get home. Home to the home he shared with his wife, with his kids. Home to the home with the bed that he had shared with his wife for thirteen years.

Home to the home with the bathroom where he thought about men at night because it was the only time where he could get the sweet relief that he had not allowed into any part of his life but that.

He was homosexual. And people could tell. Strangers could tell after only a few passing words.

And that thought was enough to send him on a spiral. A spiral that he kept in check all on the train, all in the train station, all in the parking garage, even in his car.

But the moment that he stepped inside that home to find dinner already on the table and started without him, he pulled Ivy from the table, leaving the kids without explanation, and brought her to _their_ bedroom, sat her on _their_ bed and sobbed into her lap.

And told her everything.

* * *

 **A/N:** ...Yeah, I don't know what happened here. I'm gonna chalk this one up to desperation to publish something. There are moments here that I really like, but the different scenes just kind of went all different ways and I just kind of let them. A lot of them are lacking a center. I'll maybe try to fix this one later. Hopefully you'll see what I did at the end...because that makes them more cohesive and make a little more sense. And I wanted to add on things after the last line, but they all felt wrong. I needed to leave it here and ambiguous and not a happy or sad ending in particular. This is probably mostly a depressing one. At the very least, Peter and Jason never ever get together in this one. But it's up to you whether Jason ends up okay with his homosexuality in this one or if he continues to cover it and stays married to Ivy.

Thanks for reading! Sorry for the crazy AN!


	6. This Change Won't Happen

_What If?_

 **Setting:** Derails somewhere between 'Touch My Soul' and 'Pilgrim's Hands'

 **Rating:** T for language (both cursing and some hate speech), and abortion

 **Chapter Title:** Spin on: "Tell me how this change will happen," sung by Ivy in All Grown Up

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor am I affiliated in any way with the _Bare: A Pop Opera_ or _Bare the Musical_. This story is merely for entertainment.

* * *

 **This Change Won't Happen**

Two minutes. She could wait that long.

Ivy began to quietly count under her breath to keep track, because she hadn't thought to get her watch before she'd left her room. And there was no way she wanted to go back there and have Nosy Nadia ask what she was doing. No, she would count and just pray that no one else would come into the communal bathroom.

Thirty seconds. Ninety to go.

She was only a couple of weeks late. And she wasn't always regular anyway, so it didn't really mean anything. This was just a precaution. Yeah, just a precaution.

Luckily there was a drug store just down the street from the church—where all the girls snuck out and bought their makeup—so Ivy had only had to skip out on a little bit of rehearsal to get this done.

Forty-five seconds.

If only she hadn't been so desperate. Why had she been so desperate? She'd been so elated that Jason was finally going for her that she hadn't stopped to _think_. Sure, in the past, boys had always brought the protection, but she'd always brought some just in case. It was just…that afternoon with Jason, she hadn't expected it to happen. She had _hoped_. Hoped enough that she'd worn her cute black panties. But she hadn't expected it.

Sixty seconds. Halfway there.

She didn't really think she was pregnant. She was only seventeen. She was Catholic; there was no way she was pregnant. But maybe being pregnant by Jason wouldn't be that bad…

No. It was still bad. She wasn't ready to be a mother. And Ivy had no doubt that Jason would be a great father; he'd teach their son basketball and be able to help him with all his school work. But Jason was getting ready to go to college. And Ivy was too. This wouldn't be good.

Ninety seconds.

So that left her with her options. If she even was pregnant which, really, she probably almost definitely wasn't. But it might be good to make decision now, while she was so absolutely impartial.

There were three obvious options. Everyone knew about them.

For two of them, she'd have to live with this baby for nine months. She'd have to go to college very, very pregnant. With her belly button way out in front of her. And protruding. Either way, Jason wouldn't be there with her for that part. Probably. Maybe she could convince him…

No. She couldn't take him away from school. That would ruin their baby's life for sure.

Jason had told her how she felt. But Ivy still had hope. Maybe he didn't love her now, but maybe he could. And, if Ivy was really honest with herself, he was more likely to love her if she wasn't strapping him down with a—

Time up. One-hundred-twenty.

It wouldn't matter. None of this would even matter.

She flipped over the stick.

Ivy's heart frosted over.

It mattered.

* * *

It had cost her clothing allowance for two months, plus all of her savings, but it was done.

She'd thought that having to beg Nadia to cover for her would be the worst part. With her teasing, assuming that Ivy was going to meet a boy. Pointing to her sweats, Ivy had responded, "Really? Like this?" A comment about how that was how Nadia usually looked and did she ever get any guys was on the tip of Ivy's tongue, but she'd figured that that wouldn't be the best way to secure Nadia's help.

The desperation in her eyes and voice as she pleaded for Nadia to vouch for her at rehearsal ended up earning a strange look from Nadia, but it was enough to buy her the time.

Then Ivy thought that the bus ride would be the worst part. Riding alone to an unknown part of the city on a sketchy bus was enough to have Ivy consider turning back. But she'd ridden the bus before, albeit always with friends on a day playing hooky or something, and she was determined to prove that this was something she could do by herself.

Upon arriving at the clinic, Ivy realized that the worst part was yet to come. Obviously the worst part was yet to come. She just hadn't been allowing herself to think about it. Signing the forms, using her fake ID for something less recreational than she'd ever intended it for, and them waiting.

Oh, the _waiting._

But the bus ride back was the honest to God worst part. Because it was done. There was no getting off the bus and turning back at this stage. And she was really alone. Somehow more alone than she had been before. She was left only with her thoughts and the heart-wrenching duty of playing the defendant in her own case, convincing herself that she made the right decision.

Because this was what was best for her and Jason.

But as she squeezed her legs tightly together on the bus, she couldn't help but let her mind fragment as it was hit with the mighty chisel of the tiniest bit of steely doubt.

* * *

It had been a mistake to ask Nadia how the rehearsal went.

"Well, it would have been better if we didn't have such a selfish bitch playing Juliet. Didn't even show up to rehearsal yesterday, even after being late the day before that."

She should have known that she wouldn't get off scot-free when she asked Nadia for a favor. But it wasn't like she'd had any prior experience with that particular embarrassment; she guessed that she'd hoped a little too much from Nadia's simply bountiful generosity. Nope. Same old, same old.

Ivy's uncharacteristic silence had been enough to quiet Nadia, but not before she grumpily remarked, "Well, you're no fun."

"Not to change subjects altogether, but do you think that Jason would meet up with me to make up the rehearsal?" Ivy asked, careful not to sound too hopeful in the face of Nadia's iron-clad bitterness.

"Yeah, I guess he would," Nadia drawled, eyeing Ivy suspiciously. Ivy avoided her gaze. "What are you trying to do?"

"Nothing," Ivy responded too quickly. Nadia was all but rolling her eyes at her. She gathered together a half-truth. "I'm trying to correct my mistakes."

Maybe it was a whole truth.

* * *

Ivy managed to convince Jason to an extra rehearsal one on one a couple of days later. He'd only pushed it back because he was really busy with his valedictorian speech. Honestly, Ivy didn't know why he seemed to be having so much trouble with it, but it was a good enough excuse, she figured. And she didn't want to push too hard, given how strong she'd come on in the past. Jason seemed to react better to subtlety, so she could do that for him.

They meet in the makeshift auditorium. It was the old chapel before the new one was built a few years ago. Sister Chantelle liked to call it a 'found space' but really it was just where the drama department was relegated to because it was either there or the cafeteria.

"Okay, so it was act one, scene five," Jason recollected distractedly as he flipped through script pages.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry I missed rehearsal. I had something really important," Ivy said, trying to look apologetic while also making it clear that she didn't want to be asked what the important thing was. She just didn't know what kind of facial expression you used to convey that.

"Sure." Jason threw his script to the ground at the downstage right corner. "Okay, we'll do our part and then I'll read the nurse's lines for you after that. So Tybalt just said, 'Now seeming sweet, convert to bitt'rest gall.' And then I say—"

"Wait," Ivy interrupted. She hadn't just wanted to do the scene tonight. Of course, yes, she'd wanted to make up what she'd missed, if nothing else, just so that she could get Nadia to eat it (though that girl already ate everything in sight, so that shouldn't be hard to accomplish). But she'd also wanted to have a little bonding time with Jason. "Don't you want to, I don't know, talk about how rehearsal went?"

"Uh," Jason scratched at the side of his nose, "I mean, I guess we could. But Ivy, I'm pretty busy right now and already we're kind of doing the in addition to rehearsal today, so—and not to be a total dick here—but could we just make this quick? Rehearsal went fine. A little rocky without Juliet, but we managed."

Ivy sighed. Don't push him. "Right, okay. Start your line again."

They each delivered their lines smoothly. Truth be told, Ivy knew that their parts in this scene weren't primarily together, but she had thought…she had _hoped_ …

"Okay, that's the scene," Jason said hurriedly as he immediately went to gather his things. "You know your stuff. I guess we didn't even really need to do this."

"Wait!" Ivy blurted again. "Can't we, uh, just do it one more time to make sure? I mean, I would feel better if we just cemented it—"

"Ivy, you know it. I'm telling you. Now can I please go? This speech thing is killing me."

"But…" Ivy was grasping at straws now, she knew. "It'll just take a couple of minutes. Or maybe just testing ourselves on act two, scene two? That's the part that I'm really unsure abou—"

"Or testing ourselves on the whole show, or doing every scene that we're together in, or skipping right to where we kiss just to get the acting _just right_." Jason was looking at her more coldly than he had been just a minute ago. "Look, I know what you're trying to do and I really don't have time for it right now."

"I-I'm not trying to do anything."

"Ivy. Did I not make myself clear last time?"

Ivy looked down at the floor, grasping her skirt in her hands to keep them from shaking. Her whole body felt warm with embarrassment. "I just thought…"

"Well, you were wrong," Jason was quick to inform her. "There is nothing here. We have the show, we can be friends, but you need to stop acting like this."

"Stop acting like what? Like I like you? Really, what's so terrible about that?" Ivy had to raise her voice to keep it from wavering; she already felt it tightening and her eyes were starting to sting. Damn the hormones. They were even more fucked up now than they had been before.

"I just can't deal with it right now!"

Ivy was surprised that Jason was losing his cool too. Jason was always the kid that had his shit together the most. Everyone here was so fucked up and he was so steady. That was kind of what she liked about him. Well, part of it. So him yelling at her made it feel like he was hammering a nail through her chest, so much so that she couldn't stop herself before she yelled, "You don't know what I gave up for you!"

"What? Whoring around? If anything, you should thank me for that."

Jason's expression was unreadable. And not just because Ivy's eyes were now blurry with tears. It always hurt a little when Nadia turned remarks like that. But Ivy knew that she was quick-witted and so it was easy enough to exploit Nadia's many weaknesses in return.

But if Nadia's insults hit Ivy like an annoying stray tennis ball, then Jason saying it hit like a medicine ball straight to her stomach.

Straight to her stomach…

"You can't say that to me!" Ivy cried, trying to sound biting and mean, but now tears were dribbling down her face and she knew that she looked completely pathetic.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you got me pregnant!"

Her hands flew up to her mouth in a sorry attempt to put the words back into her mouth and swallow them. She hadn't meant to admit that. This was the last thing she had wanted him to know. That was the whole point…She'd just wanted to hurt him.

And one glance at his face showed that she'd done just that. But immediately it hardened over again and he sounded completely resolved as he said, "You're lying."

That took whatever was left of Ivy's heart and crushed it under the weight of his hard stare like a piece of hard candy under a hard, unrelenting boot. "Look at me," was all she could manage, weak as it sounded. "Do I look like I could be lying?"

She saw something switch on Jason's face. But before she could try and figure out what it meant, he all but ran out of the auditorium, leaving Ivy falling to her knees as if in prayer, and sobbing for all she was worth.

Which, apparently, was not a lot.

* * *

Ivy didn't know how long she had been kneeling there, but by the time her tears finally dried up her sleeves were soaked and the circulation in her legs was cut off indefinitely. It was all she could do to weakly spin her legs around so that she was sitting flat on the floor, pathetic and alone. Her face was hot and, she knew, red and puffy. She'd been crying so long that it felt like her teeth were vibrating and the only sounds she could utter now were stupid little hiccups.

Jason thought she was pregnant. She'd never wanted to tell him that, even years down the line when they were married and had actual kids of their own (at the appropriate age). Even when they were on their deathbeds, about to die in each others' arms. This was a secret she'd intended to take to the grave.

And she hadn't even gotten the change to tell him the thing she'd really given up for him. It hadn't been her life, like he probably thought now. It had been…a different life.

Another sob threatened to come out, but Ivy was quick to smother it, her legs now solid enough that she could stand up and, for God's sake, find Jason as fast as she could.

She first checked his room. Completely empty, now that Peter was moved out. That meant that he was probably either with Peter or Nadia. Might as well check Peter's first, since Nadia's room was also her room.

Ivy knocked on the door, swiping under her eyes and folding up her sleeves—trying to look as presentable as possible instead of like the biggest human mess on earth. Peter opened the door, cracking it open and only looking a little surprised to see Ivy there.

At least, Ivy hoped he was looking at her like that because he hadn't been expecting her, not because she looked puffy and ugly.

"Strange question," Ivy started, clearing her through when she found it weak and phlegmy. "Is Jason here?"

Ivy knew that Peter and Jason weren't on the best of terms anymore. Lord only knew why. But the way that Peter was shielding the doorway made her suspicious—no, it made her _hope—_ that Jason was there.

"No, sorry, he's not."

Ivy tried to surreptitiously peek through the gaps in Peter's blockade, but she couldn't see a thing. She couldn't see, or hear, for that matter, any sign of Jason. "Well, is Lucas there?"

Peter faltered a bit, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "No, he's not."

"Okay." Ivy shifted her weight. If Lucas wasn't there, Peter was at least alone, assuming Jason wasn't actually there. "Well, uh, if you see Jason, can you please tell him something?"

"Sure. What?"

"Just…tell him I got rid of it. For him. Okay?"

Ivy felt the tears coming on again, and she turned around before Peter could respond. She walked swiftly down the hallway, only stopping for a second a few yards away to see if Jason did indeed come through Peter's door to talk to her, but there was nothing.

Nothing and nobody.

* * *

Ivy had once again managed to collect herself by the time she made it back to her room. She unlocked the door and sullenly dropped her belongings to the floor on her half of the room before sitting on her bed.

Obviously Jason wasn't here either. But Nadia still was (as always), so Ivy meekly gave it one last shot.

"Nadia, have you seen Jason?"

Nadia looked over at her as if she were stupid (really, most of the looks Ivy and Nadia gave each other. Except for the ones of unparalleled smugness when a particularly good slam was landed). "You were just with him. Shouldn't you know?"

"No, I…I lost track of him."

"What? He didn't get trapped in the spider web of your magical lady parts? Bummer. Glad to know someone's immune, though. Hey, maybe it's a twin thing."

Nadia shot that shit-eating grin Ivy's way and was met with dead silence.

"You know. Because I'm not into you, so he couldn't be into you."

Ivy reached for her water to try and swallow the lump in her throat.

"Okay fine, not one of my best zingers. But you'd better have something to retaliate with soon because somehow you're even worse like this. Okay? I could tell you something about how fucking annoying it is to have to deal with you like this."

Ivy opened her mouth to say something but she just had no energy to deal with it right now.

"Oh, not even a response? Because you're too good for it now? Or is it that even you know how annoying this is?"

Luckily this time Ivy didn't have to worry about forming a reply, because a knock came at their door. Ivy made the mistake of letting her heart (damn, she'd thought it was dead) leap and she stood up, looking hopefully at the door.

Eyeing her like she was crazy and possibly retarded for not actually moving to get the door, Nadia opened it wide, revealing Peter. Ivy's heart sank again.

"Ivy," Peter started, looking right past Nadia, "we need to talk."

Sensing the tone for once, Nadia had the brains to return to her half of the room as Peter approached Ivy, closing the door behind him, despite the strict policy that the school had against boys and girls being in the same room with the door closed.

Obviously, it wasn't the first time that Ivy had broken that particular rule, though.

"Things have gotten out of hand," Peter began, his tone causing Ivy to recoil slightly.

This was not the Peter that Ivy knew. His voice was cold, he was not meeting her eyes, and he seemed deeply upset. But she and Peter had always been friends—good friends—so what was the problem?

"You and Jason can't be together. Ever. You're just not…compatible. And I know that you gave up your…" Peter eyed Ivy's abdomen, lingering for a long moment, "situation for him. And that must have been very hard for you."

Ivy heard a gasp from the other side of the room, but just barely, over the sound of her world collapsing.

"And either way, Jason isn't in the best of places right now, and clearly neither are you, so I think that both of you just need to figure things out right now. On your own."

"But Peter—"

"Please, Ivy," Peter forced out, his voice sounding oddly strained. "Just like I don't know how hard this is for you, you don't know how hard this is for me."

Peter was making for the door when Nadia came barreling over to him and cut him off. "I have to talk to my brother," Nadia said with such desperation that Ivy just wanted to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all.

Then they started whispering. Maybe in a different world, Ivy would have tried to eavesdrop on what they were saying, but at this point she was so past it all that she couldn't be bothered. She just wanted to sink into the ground and disappear. The best she could do was let her body fall over and curl up on her bed, not even bothering to take her shoes off.

A few moments she felt the end of her bed depress with the weight of someone else. Her voice tired she began, "Peter, I—"

"Not Peter."

Ivy could do little more than blink in incredulousness that here in her time of need, God had sent to her aid Nadia. After the boy she loved's ex-best friend—of all people—snubbed her.

"God, what?" Ivy groaned.

"So you were pregnant."

It wasn't a question, so Ivy didn't give a response. She just dug her head deeper into her pillow.

"And you got rid of it."

Again, she replied nothing. Just pursed her lips to keep the tears from starting up again.

"Did you talk to him?"

"Only today," Ivy managed to whisper. "After I…after."

Ivy felt her bed move and figured Nadia was shifting around. She didn't care to look.

"Is that why you missed rehearsal the other day?"

Ivy nodded.

"Oh. Then I guess I'm sorry I was such a bitch."

Somehow, Ivy managed to crack a wry smile. "Which time?"

"I guess just recently. I don't think it was altogether uncalled for beyond that."

Ivy wasn't going to dignify that with a response, so the two of them fell to silence for a minute. But that didn't mean that her mind was quiet. None of this made any sense to her. Nothing about Jason made any sense anymore. And it scared Ivy to think that maybe it never had.

"Nadia?" Ivy started, the name feeling strangely foreign on her tongue. Like they were strangers.

"Hmm?"

"What did Peter mean?"

"When?"

"Just now. With all the…crypticness."

"Oh. You mean why you and Jason…?"

"Yeah."

"Um." Ivy shifted her vision as far as she could out of the corner of her eye until it hurt, and she saw Nadia clearly thinking. Ivy only wished she knew about what. "I don't know," she said finally. "I guess you two just aren't compatible."

"But what does that mean? I mean, if I like him and I think we're compatible then doesn't that mean something?"

Again, Nadia was taking time to form her words. Why couldn't she just get on with it?

"Look, you just have to trust Peter on this one. You and Jason aren't meant to be."

Ivy blinked as she felt new tears falling straight from the corner of her eye to her pillow, making the entire side of her face damp. "God, I just feel so stupid," she whispered.

Frankly, Ivy was shocked when Nadia didn't take that golden bullet and run with it. Instead, she felt Nadia's hand on her leg, as though awkwardly trying to comfort her. "Well…I don't think there was any right thing to do in this situation."

Ivy shook her head, a little broken laugh on her lips. That was sure as hell right. "I don't even know why you're here right now instead of with Jason."

Silence.

"Oh, right, of course you'd rather be with Jason than with me. This is just pity, right? Finally you have the opportunity to pity me."

Ivy felt Nadia pull her hand away and again the feeling of the bed moving with Nadia's weight began. Instantly, loneliness began seeping through all of the cracks that Ivy had and she realized that, pathetically, even Nadia was better than nothing. Way better than nothing.

"Thanks, though," she blurted before Nadia could leave the bed. "Thanks for…comforting me."

"Sure," was all Ivy heard, though she could have sworn that it was colored with something of a smile. Could have been her imagination, though. "And…I hope that someday you understand."

"Understand?"

"I mean…understand why Jason…why this didn't work out. Someday."

Ivy hoped so too. As she filled her empty abdomen with a deep, shuddering breath, she exhaled saying, "Someday, maybe…"

* * *

Ivy never forgot the day that her heart broke. It was one of the last days that Ivy spoke to Jason—outside of what was a very awkward production of Romeo and Juliet—and, oddly, one of the last times that Ivy spoke to Peter. They both completely shut her out and, frankly, Ivy wasn't eager to be the first one to return contact. But, from what she could tell, it didn't look like they were speaking either, so despite whatever had gone on behind closed doors that day, it hadn't fixed their friendship.

Strangest of all, was the friendship that Ivy did gain. Somehow, Ivy and Nadia finally crossed that bridge that had never been attempted before. It turned out that all it took to bring them together was the sharing of a secret and finally understanding each others' pain. And while Ivy would never call them best friends, they were fast friends. And they kept in touch after high school, which Ivy could say of no one else at St. Cecelia's, despite all the friends she'd thought she'd had at the time.

And that was how the story went for a long time. For a couple of years that's how Ivy remembered the story whenever she dared think of the biggest regret she had in her life. Which was infrequently. Because it was less painful that way.

Not to say that Ivy was completely sure she would have made a different choice if she had to do all over again, but she still definitely classified it as a regret. Every time she went on a date, she found herself wondering, if she ever married this guy, how would he feel knowing that their child wasn't her first child? And would they hate her when they learned what she'd done to her child?

She definitely hated herself. But hating herself was too much to handle so, again, she just didn't think about it. Compartmentalized that afternoon at the women's clinic and only brought it out at her darkest of moments, leaving her crying into her pillow, refusing to give even the shortest of explanations to her bewildered roommate.

Then came the day that the narrative changed. The magic of the internet was coming about and somehow Ivy stumbled across one Peter Simmonds. Who, if his cover information was anything to judge by, was out and holy baby Jesus was he proud.

Ivy felt shock and horror and confusion. Peter had always seemed so normal. Sure, he hadn't been the manliest of men, but Ivy had never assumed him to be a homo. And here he was flaunting it online like everyone wanted to see it.

Automatically, Ivy felt herself reaching for her new cell phone and searching for Nadia's number. And, to only add to her shock, Ivy found out that Nadia had already known.

"You mean you knew back in high school?"

"Yeah." If anything, Nadia seemed bored. Ivy was astounded.

"And you were okay with it?"

"Yeah."

"And you didn't think to tell anybody?"

"It wasn't my business."

Ivy then proceeded to hiss something about him making it everyone's business by having the gall to make his profile picture a shot of him and some boy kissing. On the cheek but still, the implication was clear. Peter and this tan, attractive boy were definitely…

Tan and attractive. Instantly Ivy's heart dropped. No, no, she didn't know the man in this picture, but suddenly the image Ivy had painted so clearly in her mind of the past shattered. And in that refracted picture, suddenly the light was shown.

Ivy thusly began babbling on the phone, mainly strings of "Oh my God," all punctuated with, "How could you not tell me?"

"Uh, Ivy, we weren't friends—"

"No. Not Peter."

It had taken a long time for Nadia to reply. Apparently Jason wasn't quite in the same place that Peter was. Still, Ivy was horrified to learn the truth to everything that she had thought to be right before. Incompatible? Clearly. Ivy didn't know how she had ever loved him. How she hadn't felt that something had been horribly, horribly wrong.

She had ranted and raved to a strangely silent Nadia. Ivy finished her piece with a resounding question of: "How can you be okay with this?"

There was silence and Ivy would have thought that the line had disconnected some time during her revelation if it hadn't been for Nadia's breathing on the other end. Then, she heard this speech.

"Ivy, you have to learn to be okay with this. Not today, but as soon as you can. Because despite everything, of all of us, Peter is the one that's right. And he's the one that the world is watching. So you can be where you are right now, but you'd have better get a move on if you don't want to be left behind. You don't want to be on the wrong side of history, do you? Because that's where you'll be if you don't start running."

The phone call didn't last much longer than that. And in the time that followed, calls between the two of them weren't as frequent as they had once been, not just because the joy of texting was on the rise.

But Nadia's words were ever-present nonetheless and Ivy thought about them frequently.

The wrong side.

Hadn't Ivy already been on the wrong side of everything?

Well, she'd fucked everything up so far. Been on the wrong side, made everything worse. Maybe just this once…

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh, Ivy. If you only knew how much you didn't fuck things up. Because Jason lives! Anyway, sorry that this one didn't focus on Jason, but I just want all of these stories to be telling a seemingly very different story when, obviously, all of them are inherently similar. So I went different POV on this one. I left it a little open-ended, but for me in this AU Jason does come out eventually as an adult, but he and Peter never end up together; Peter would never forgive him enough for that in this one.

(Also, sorry I didn't touch on Ivy's abortion as much as was emotionally necessary. It just didn't feed the story. If you wanna read a good one about that, check out Pain by broadwaypants.)


End file.
